


Slipping, Dodging, Sneaking Creeping

by fragrantwoods



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003), Caprica (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-24
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-26 09:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1683161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU Caprican bar, co-ed Laura finds a distraction from her troubles (set in the Joseph Adama/Laura Roslin 'verse)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slipping, Dodging, Sneaking Creeping

Title: Slipping, Dodging, Sneaking Creeping  
Word Count: 809  
Rating: MA  
For [](http://bsg-kink.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_kink**](http://bsg-kink.livejournal.com/) prompt Laura Roslin/Sam Adama,  lady and the tramp, anonymous sex - wrong place, right time  


Summary: In an AU Caprican bar, co-ed Laura finds a distraction from her troubles (set in the Joseph Adama/Laura Roslin 'verse)

It was a seedy, grim hole-in-the-wall bar. It fit her mood perfectly. Laura Roslin was mad, and sad. Sadder than any Caprican Uni co-ed should be. How did she get to this point, Education major and part-time mistress to a mob lawyer? She downed the last of her drink. She was--

“—too good to be here.”

_Huh?_

She turned and was nose to chest with someone who looked like one of her lover’s clients: beefy and big, black wife-beater tee stretched tight over a chest and ripped arms livid with gang tattoos.

“What’d you say?” She looked up (and up, and up) into swarthy features, knife-sharp cheekbones, and eyes that were almost black in the dim light. He smiled like he didn’t do it often.

“I said, you look too good to be here. Too classy.” He smirked and gave a subtle sign to the bartender. A drink was in front of him before she could blink.

She shrugged. “Man problems. My boyfriend’s a jackass sometimes.”

He rolled his eyes and nodded. “Know what you mean. My husband’s riding my ass again about spending too much time on the job. Like that’s not keeping a roof over his head.”

In twenty minutes Laura was leaning against him, swaying a bit between his wide-spread knees. He felt good, solid…he felt _honest,_ somehow, compared to Joseph. He was murmuring against her ear that everything would be okay, and if she wanted, he could pay this asshole boyfriend a visit. He asked a few probing questions about Joe, but accepted her side-stepping with grace.

The tattoos had finally clicked with her memory. She was nuzzling with a Ha’la’tha member, probably an enforcer, from the look of him. She could have Joseph Adama hurt, if she wanted to. The thought made her hotter than anything he’d done with her in weeks. She rubbed her cheek against his nipple, pointed and sharp under his shirt, and his groaned hiss was music to her ears.

In thirty minutes, they were in the alley in back of the bar. The gangster was hard as a rock from head to toe, and even though he turned his head when she tried to kiss him, he didn’t push her hand off his cock. Later, she would puzzle over how he’d gotten harder the more she ragged on Joe.

 When he shrugged his shirt over his massive shoulders and folded it into a neat square, she didn’t think twice. Her tongue traced a wet line over the black inked lines and swirls down to his navel, and then she was on her knees on the improvised pad of his shirt, and he was shuddering over her, eyes shut tight.

 _Gods!_ He was as big as Joseph, maybe bigger. She tried to put some finesse into it, swirling her lips over the head and down, when he grabbed her shoulders hard enough to hurt. Iron-hard fingers dug into her skin and he growled at her to hold still. One hand moved to cup her head and then he was pistoning into her mouth, hips winding and bucking until she had to cling to his thighs to keep her balance. She was bracing herself to swallow hard and deep when he jerked himself out of her mouth and turned, spilling against the grimy brick wall behind her.

“This is about a hundred kinds of wrong, lady. We both need to go back where we belong.”

He gave her a sympathetic smile as he helped her to her feet. “Your guy…he’ll hold on to you until you make it clear you want more. And you’re never gonna get that from him.”

Her lips felt hot and swollen. The liquor was wearing off enough for her to be embarrassed at blowing a stranger—a dangerous stranger—in an alleyway. Was this was her relationship with Joseph Adama was leading her to? Revenge sex to punish them both? All the heat had vaporized from her core, and she simply wanted to go home.

Maybe this was the wakeup call she’d needed. It was surely the wrong place for her…but maybe it was the right time.

 

************************

“What’d you find out?’ Joe’s fedora was tipped low over his brow as he warily questioned his brother.

Sam’s eyes were flat and icy. “She never spilled anything about you, even three sheets to the wind and you making her feel like shit.”

“Anything else?" There was something odd about Sam tonight. His cheeks were ruddy, for him.

His brother was in front of him in a flash, and before he could react, a stony fist was being driven into his midsection, leaving him gasping. “What the _frak?”_

“You deserved that.” He flexed his knuckles until they popped. “And she deserves better than you.”

Both men silently vowed to do better as they went their separate ways.  



End file.
